"I love you too, sister of mine. Always and forever."
When the call ended, Annani stared at the black screen, emotionally drained but somehow lighter than she had felt in a long time.
Kian squeezed her shoulder. "I'll call Kalugal and Lokan and have them call Anandur to talk to her."
"Thank you." She covered his hand with hers. "Thank you for making this possible. I might not know much about submarines, but I know it is not like renting a car. It must have cost the clan a fortune."
"It did, but I can't think of a better use for our money than saving family."
15
TULA
Even at night, the Indian Ocean was warm, wrapping around Tula through the wetsuit in a way that should have been comforting but wasn't. The temperature was fine, but everything else about being underwater in the dark was wrong.
Breathing through a mechanical device, the scooter that was basically a motor with handles that she had to hold on to, the disorientation in the dark water that made it hard to tell where exactly she was positioned between the surface and the bottom.
Don't panic. Just breathe.
The world had turned alien. Above, below, all around, nothing but black water that seemed to press against her from every direction. The pressure wasn't crushing, they weren't that deep, but she couldn't tell if they were ten feet down or fifty. Without visual references and without experience, her only indication of depth was the ache in her ears.
Was that normal pressure?
Was it safe for the baby?
The only orientation points were the small lights attached to the lead divers' belts, tiny stars in the vast underwater universe.
Okidu was beside her, occasionally turning to look at her to make sure that she was keeping her scooter steady. The device looked deceptively simple—just two handles with triggers and a torpedo-shaped body with a propeller at the back. But her hands were already shaking from holding on, making it hard to maintain the grip.
She was gripping the handles too tightly. She should ease her hold.
Just remember the instructions. Squeeze the trigger gently, the propeller engages. Release, it stops. Too much pressure and you'll shoot forward too fast. Too little and you'll barely move.
The sweet spot was somewhere in between, but she was still struggling to find it.
Around her, she could make out the dark shapes of the others, distinguished only by silhouettes. The ladies all had long hair that floated like seaweed in the water, which was the only way she could identify who was who. Tony, Elias, and the Guardian escorts were bulkier shapes. All except one, who was shaped like a very skinny female but was as tall as the Guardians.
Tula thought that might be Tamira to her left, something about the way she held herself, even underwater, but it was impossible to tell for sure.
Tony was ahead of her, or at least she thought it was Tony and not Elias. The breadth of their shoulders wasn't the same. Even from here, she could see that he was struggling with the scooter, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. The sleeping draught she'd given him had mostly worn off, but it might stillbe affecting him and slowing his reflexes. Usually, he was a fast learner.
A wave of sadness threatened to disorient her further when she thought about the relationship she had ended in her mind but had never told him was over. He still thought they were together, and she didn't have the heart to correct him.
She should, though.
Now that they were free of their cage, it was time for them to set each other free.
Realizing that she was going too slowly, she squeezed the trigger harder, and the scooter lurched forward, pulling her along. Too much pressure. She eased off, found something closer to the right speed, and fell into formation with the others.
The scooter's vibration traveled up her arms, and because she was so tense and rigid, her forearms soon began to ache from maintaining the exact pressure needed.
If she held on too tightly, she'd tire quickly; too loosely and she risked losing her grip, causing the scooter to stop and sink. The wrist strap was a backup, but the idea of the scooter dangling from her wrist only made her grip harder. Progress was slow as they frequently stopped and adjusted, so a journey that should take one and a half hours would likely stretch to two and a half or more.
Her ears popped, and panic flared. Were they going deeper? The pressure in her ears suggested it, but maybe that was normal. Maybe ears always felt like this underwater. She'd never had a reason to find out before. She tried to remember what she'd learned about diving in a novel she'd read years ago—somethingabout nitrogen bubbles and decompression. But they weren't that deep, were they?
The rescuers knew about her pregnancy, so they would not design a mission that would endanger her baby.
Or so she hoped.
